Two spotlights, hanging above, attached to adjacent corners in the ceiling, just out of sight, each sending the dimmest of light… To just barely make visible through the darkness…

Mark Flynn…

Standing beside… A light oval… A furry white creature… Just at the height where his hand rests… A few feet off the ground. It appears as if a cloud is floating...

He drops to a knee, and begins ruffling the front of the creature’s fuzz...

”Oh, Massy. Dear sweet Massy. It’s existentially tragic that changing the subject matter of your statements to ‘Nursery rhyme parody’ is (just barely) a step-up from your previous work about ‘Lists of Facts’ and ‘Rugby’.”

“Subtle improvement from the very lowest conceivable point… Congratulations, I guess?”

“This is getting quite sad. On multiple levels.”

“First, how you seem to have two talking points. But they’re still illustrating how hopeless your situation is… Talking point #1: ‘Boy, you sure are talking about how many times I’ve lost in the ring a lot. Would you mind not bringing it up if you could? It makes me look really bad…’”

Flynn turns from the docile fluff creature, to the camera. The white crescent of his teeth, revealing the most eerie of grins…

“Which, sorry about how easy it is to make you look incompetent, Massy. Really the only thing I’ve done is read off the results of your last few matches, apologies if that’s personally embarrassing for you.”

“Dimissing all the fluff of my metaphors, be aware. Repetitiveness is necessary. You have lost many, many times. It’s a lot of information to cover and doing it all at once would have left very little room for me to laugh in disbelief at how confident you can be in your abilities when you haven’t done one impressive thing in your entire career.”

Flynn turns back to his… pet? His hand moving from a nub on the front, to the rounded curves above…

“Which leads me into Mastermind Talking point #2, in which you actually managed to state a logical reason you might manage to succeed this Wednesday…”

Flynn puts up a wall with his right hand between his animal friend and his mouth, directly this message toward the camera.

“(After three promos about how great I am, rugby and how you’d rather not talk about how often you lose respectively)."

The hand wall drops back to his companion's back.

“… Is how you managed to beat Ashe Dawson in a steel cage match. Which somehow, you’ve decided, proves you can succeed in a steel cage environment. Instead of proving the more obvious fact, that Ashe Dawson has no business being in a wrestling ring, cage around it or otherwise.”

Flynn shakes his head, grimacing.

“Sorry, but calling Ashe Dawson a rising star in this company, is like calling the Titanic a successful voyage. You can say it as loud and as many times as you want, but history seems so against you on that front. The kid hasn’t had a match in this company in which he hasn’t been beaten into a pulp. He’s been here almost two months and picked up his first win LAST WEEK. AND HE STILL MANAGED TO GET PINNED IN THAT MATCH!!!!”

Flynn spits behind his oddly curvaceous friend. The creature does not move.

“You want to bring up contradictions, Massy? How exactly am I supposed to stop ‘being repetitive’ by bringing up how the only people you’ve beaten are worthless losers?”

“When the only people you can bring up in your promos to tout how ‘impressive’ your wins have been ARE WORTHLESS LOSERS?!?”

“You beat Ashe Dawson in a steel-cage? That’s… something. Factually accurate, at least. Alternatively, my third match into my XWF career, I beat an eight-foot tall serial killer unconscious in a steel-cage.”

“And he’d actually won an XWF-sanctioned match before that night. So, I feel like your Ashe Dawson win on your resume doesn’t quite stack up in comparison to my similar accomplishments.”

"Kind of like when you compare the title belts we've held in our respective careers."

“Honestly, if you want to talk about something besides your unimpressive record in previous weeks, fine. Let’s discuss how unimpressive you’ve been this week.”

“It’s been stunning. Even I’m surprised by how deeply you are under my control. How desperate you are to conform and accept my standards of presentation. How much I’m dictating the pace, output and content of your words…”

“Example.”

“I tell you to stop talking about the anger you've imagined? And you do it.”

“I correct you about the stipulations of the match, about how you need to think about climbing out of that cage? And you do it.”

“I even chastise you about how you need to stop whistling?”

Quote:Mastermind walks away and looks at the cage, and starts humming.

“AND YOU DO IT. Trained like a dog in two promos flat. Not even I knew I was that good.”

Flynn leans into the camera and coos into it.

“In your next promo, would you kindly bark like a dog? Would you consider shaking boy? Roll over if you cou-“

Suddenly, a barking is heard!!! An angry howling, a gnashing of teeth… The source of the sound… isn’t visible… But a low growl… audible… Impatient… Furious…

Flynn rises away from the creature and sprints to the other side of the room… Stepping around some sort of box, and disappearing behind it… covered in blackness… Some kind of curtain…

“SHHHHHHHHHH…” Flynn howls back into the curtain…

The low growl… subsides…

Flynn stays behind the blackness a moment longer… as if the subtlest move could anger the beast… Staring…

He steps quietly… Slowly. Before returning to his pale, ghostly comrade… Back down to one knee, scratching him atop his head…

“Sorry. Don’t want to give away the big reveal I’ve set up for you, not just yet…”

Flynn rises to stand… And walks forward… He steps carefully forward, until the only thing visible in the shot is his upper body.

He looks directly into the eyes of the viewer.

“What I do want to give away is how irritatingly simple your point of view is…”

“How little you understand about the psychology behind my methods.”

“You act as if all my efforts, my prods, my words… Are simply to insult you. To deride you. To embarrass you and that once we step in the ring, all my efforts to publicly air your streak of failures will have no effect on our match…”

Flynn’s right hand rises beside his face, holding… something… barely visible. Dark.

Flynn’s thumb tightens down upon it.

Suddenly, the room is illuminated. Covered, bathed in a blinding light. The light dims and the edges of the room come into view. Still, Flynn obscures the scene behind him with his face, the only thing visible now is the plain white walls of the room. Sterile and clean…

“Wrong-o, Massy… Dead wrong. This right here? This verbal back-and-forth? This is very important, what’s playing out right here between you and I…”

“This is where the match gets decided. And the fact that you don’t understand that… Only serves to illustrate the mental gap between where you are… And where I am.”

“This is where psychological advantages are crafted. This is where mental boundaries are set, where our opportunities are laid out before us.”

“We’re not just two bodies entering a cage to be compared physically, Massy. We're not two husks of flesh bashing into each other skull first until the weaker party passes out."

“We’re two MINDS, Massy… We’re the sum of our thoughts, both stated and silent... We're our levels of confidence, our ability to keep calm under pressure, our hunger for victory, our fear of failure... This week is our mental weigh-in, our chance to establish our fitness to compete… And to disguise our weaknesses that can be taken advantage of…”

“And Massy? You haven't hidden much of anything so far... You’ve made some things very clear this week.”

“You’re not confident.”

Quote:For most people the Ark of The Covenant doesn't mean anything,

Quote:I know it's a weak title.

“You’re crumbling under the pressure, bursting at your edges… losing your nerve... Losing your resolve...”

Quote:I did lose and it was embarrassing. Let's move on.

“You’re hungry… But you can’t feed yourself… You’re pleading like a starving child in an alley…”

Quote:Let me give you a beat down Wednesday.

Quote:Let me take that title

“And you’re afraid.”

Quote:Mark Flynn. He is a true champion

“Of not measuring up to your biggest challenge to date. Of failure. Of hopelessness. Of not being good enough. You’re afraid.”

Quote:And I know deep down inside of me, if I want to win that title, I need to pull something big out to achieve that.

"Thus far, Massy, what you've pulled out is a lengthy list of my accomplishments as an XWF superstar, an advertisement for rugby, a compilation of pseudo-facts, and a nursery rhyme..."

Suddenly, Flynn's eyes light up... A big smile glows brightly… As the wheels in his head start turning…

"Speaking of nursery rhymes... You seem to enjoy stories about barnyard animals. To be expected from someone of your intelligence level."

Flynn shrugs, grinning.

“But, fine, Massy. I hear you.”

“You don’t want to discuss your recent string of seemingly unending failures. Your unimpressive, embarrassing past. Your immediate work this week, flailing helplessly against a clearly superior mind and how it provides evidence that once we step in the ring, the Master of Minds will be summarily beaten into submission via an infinitely more experienced and intelligent grappler.”

“Fine by me.”

“Let’s instead discuss your present… And your immediate future.”

Flynn side-steps out of the way, to reveal the sign he's laid out.

The fluff creature?

Is a sheep.

On the other side of the room, is a cage covered in a black cloak.

Flynn walks across the room, from the camera to the cage.

And pulls away the curtain.

Within the cage... is a rabid wolf...

Dark fur... Bubbling Saliva running down his mouth... Silent... Staring directly ahead at the sheep.

Flynn then crosses the room...

Back to the sheep.

Flynn again admires the ball of fluff.

"Let's begin our illustration."

Flynn pats the sheep atop the head.

"This is you."

"He's a little slower mentally than the average sheep... Figured it would only help the animal get into the character playing you."

Flynn winks.

"Now, Mastermind."

Flynn looks deeply into the sheep's eyes, turning its chin upwards to return his gaze.

"You don't want to go in that cage. That wolf will devour you whole."

Flynn's hand raises and lowers so the sheep's head bobs, as he speaks for the poor lamb.

"SOUNDS LIKE THAT WOLF IS AFRAID. LET ME IN."

Flynn shakes his head as he holds the sheep's still.

"That wolf is not afraid. That wolf is enraged. That wolf is hungry. That wolf is sick and twisted. The only thing in that cage for you is a painful end."

"I DONT FEAR THAT WOLF. IF ITS ANGRY, IT ONLY SHOWS THAT IM IN CONTROL. LET ME IN."

"If controlling that wolf makes it angry, then controlling that wolf is not something you want to do. I fear you think your foolishness is bravery. It's not."

"LET ME IN."

"Mastermind, if you're not careful, I might do as you ask."

"LET ME I-"

All of a sudden, Flynn grabs the sheep by the face, pulling it across the room! The sheep does not resist, helplessly following Flynn with sleepy steps.

Flynn throws open the cage door, pulls the sheep forward into the cage, and latches the door shut behind it...

...

...

The rending of flesh from bone.

The snapping of bone between teeth...

The gnashing of teeth into flesh...

Flynn...

Grins...

“Get the message, Massy?”

"The role of the foolish lamb led to slaughter is your present, Massy."

"And the role of the meal?"

Flynn watches this feeding take place... And licks his lips...

"Is your future."